The Interface
by Bizarre Aubrey
Summary: MoviexComics. In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim.
1. Batarangs

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: This is a crossover between **Batman Begins** and **DCU** **Comic!Verse**. So, this was our first attempt at Batman anything. We had a harsh and tedious battle over Bruce. He was NOT particularly like himself in Batman Begins. But he was...yet he wasn't...yet. So we tried to find a happy medium. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't.

Aubrey's crap: Hi. I have no internet. Bizarre is in charge.

* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter I: Batarangs  
**

* * *

Batman was really beginning to get into this whole 'patrol' thing. He couldn't be everywhere every night, but as long as he rotated, Gotham seemed to be getting better. Rachel would beg to differ, but he would simply ignore her. She whined a lot these days. Apparently without Falcone to direct all her hatred at, she needed a new vent. Tough shit. 

He'd called Gordon over his comm. a few minutes ago and hopefully the cops would be here soon. He zip-stripped a couple guys and then began to poke around. This job smelled funny. They were all too well armed for just a drug job. They were a street level gang…and…He had to force open a door. A back room had one teenage boy tied up.

Shit, he thought and moved to check the kid's vitals. This was a kidnapping job? Ransom? Damn it. He cursed a blue streak in his head. The boy made a choked sound, as Batman reached down to cut the gag.

"L-l…" the dark haired boy stuttered. "…behind you," he finally spit out. The Batman turned just in time to get a knife to the shoulder. He knocked the asshole down and then Gordon showed up.

"About time," Batman grumbled. When he turned back, the boy had passed out again. "Gordon, we need an ambulance."

Gordon eyed the kid, then Batman, and he nodded. He went back to his squad car to call the hospital. They dispatched the ambulance shortly thereafter.

Batman watched the unconscious child while he waited for Gordon to return. He wondered whose teenager this was…Batman waited patiently as Gordon barked out orders, and then he slipped into the shadows when the paramedics came to load up the boy. James nearly missed him, but Batman cleared his throat and the lieutenant saw him.

"Good job, Batman," James said quietly, his silly little mustache twitching. "You got any information about the kid though?" He had two little ones of his own at home, he felt his heart clench at the idea of it being one of them taken captive by a band of psychos.

"Not yet." Batman shook his head a little. "We'll ask for his name and information, when he wakes up. It shouldn't be hard to find a residence location."

Gordon lifted his hand as if to clap him on the shoulder, then thought better of it. "Right," he nodded, turning to get back in his car. Batman had never been so grateful in his entire life. That knife had slipped through the seam, right at the joint of shoulder and neck. It hadn't gone in very deep, the Kevlar had put up resistance, like it was supposed to. But, he wasn't going to lie to himself, it stung.

Alfred was going to give him hell over this. He'd have to get home and get his wound taken care of, before he tended to the kid. It would only be conspicuous, if he went into a hospital in his suit. If he went in with his shoulder bleeding, it would be horrifyingly so. No, it would be best if Bruce Wayne went in without any visible signs of injury.

Alfred berated him, as predicted. "Bruises, burns, poisoning, now gashes? How are we going to explain this, Master Bruce?" the old Butler complained as he dressed the wound. Bruce sat in the chair mutely and waited for the end of the rant. It was only when they were headed for the garage that he answered,

"Fencing, Alfred. With live steel."

"Your cheek is not appreciated, Master Bruce," Alfred scowled after him, shoving his hat down onto his head.

"We need to go to the hospital." Bruce veered the conversation away from his scolding. "There was a kid involved in a kidnapping tonight, we need to find his family," the Wayne heir explained, climbing into the backseat.

"Yes, sir," Alfred replied tersely. Bruce took the ride as an opportunity to shut his eyes for a few minutes. Batman and Bruce Wayne, between the two of them there really wasn't enough time to sleep.

When they arrived at the Gotham City Health Center, the woman at the front desk knew exactly who they were looking for. She referred them to a young nurse.

"He hasn't woken up yet, so we still don't know his name," the girl clarified as she led the way. "You wouldn't happen to know who his family is, would you, Mr. Wayne?"

"No," Bruce admitted. "I'm going to try to find out."

She smiled, "It is very kind of you to come down and see him, sir." Bruce felt his head throb. He hoped this woman wasn't cowing to him for his money like so many others.

Alfred, mercifully, interceded. "Everyone needs someone to look after them sometimes," he said with a smile. "Master Bruce knows that better than most."

Her grin widened. "You're right," she concurred, then pushed open the door for them.

The boy was still asleep. In the hospital bed he looked small and peaceful. Bruce watched him for a moment and then sat down in a chair. With his uninjured arm he motioned for Alfred to do the same. His wounded shoulder throbbed unpleasantly.

"Can I get you anything, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, his eyes sliding to the injury. Bruce narrowed his eyes in return because he hated when Alfred fussed in public.

"Oh, I can get you two anything you need," the bright-eyed nurse offered.

"I could use a drink," Bruce said, just to get her to shut up. Alfred's exasperated sigh was nearly audible, nearly. A gentleman's gentleman did not sigh and moan.

"I have a bit of a headache my dear, if it would be at all possible for you to bring me a small package of aspirin?" The butler inquired.

"Of course," she chirped and then bounced off.

"Really, Master Bruce," Alfred reprimanded, sitting down in the chair and leaning back.

Bruce offered him a dry stare. "It isn't as bad as last time," he muttered. Last time he'd been gassed with a hallucinogen, and set on fire. A shallow knife wound to the shoulder was low on the scale of injuries.

As they waited for the fair-haired young woman to return the room was silent but for the beep of equipment.

The soft squeaking of a cart heralded her appearance. She handed over Bruce's drink and the package of aspirin, which Alfred held until she left. The rest of the items on the cart were for the anonymous boy.

"The poor thing is malnourished," she murmured as she hooked up a nutrient bag to his IV. "Must have been there for weeks!"

That made Bruce's brow crinkle. How had he really missed that? Yes, it had been tough to get around during the first few weeks following the gassing. But the idea of some kid sitting helpless for weeks made him furious. He let out a huff of frustration that no one else had a chance of hearing. Bruce took a longer sip of his drink, and waited anxiously for the woman to finish and leave again.

The seven years he'd spent gallivanting around China hadn't prepped him for coming back so suddenly into Gotham's High Society. He wasn't nearly as talented at hiding his emotions as Alfred was.

The nurse paid him no mind and went about her business. After she'd recorded the child's stats she nodded to them amiably and left. Alfred handed over the package of aspirin as soon as the door was shut.

"He looks very young," the man noted.

"Yes," Bruce agreed, popping the pills into his mouth and swallowing them with another drink. "He must have been lonely," Wayne mused in a distracted voice. "Being away from his family for so long."

"I hope he still has a family left," Alfred said in a whisper. It wasn't a far stretch of reality for them to have been killed in the League's attack.

Bruce's expression took on a hint of pain, but he smoothed it out quickly.

"We'll deal with that if it comes up," he decided, slouching in the uncomfortable chair.

Alfred nodded in an absent minded way and kept his mouth shut from there. Perhaps, Bruce would fall asleep in that chair while they waited. God knew the man needed it.

After waiting for nearly an hour, Bruce really felt he didn't have a choice. He was exhausted and the dream world beckoned.

x x x x x

He was having a particularly disturbing vision about tentacles and drowning when his sharp ears caught the child's low murmur.

He was instantly awake. He could see the boy stirring and stood up. Bruce hoped the kid wouldn't have any brain damage so he would be able to answer the questions Bruce wanted to ask.

The boy hissed low in his throat and scooted backwards on the bed. His eyes were open, sharp and blue as they took in the room.

"Where am I?" he said though his tongue was awkward and clumsy in his dry mouth.

"Gotham," Bruce answered. "Gotham Health Center."

The kid stared at him. It was a very harsh look…that just melted away. He was suddenly just a wide-eyed confused teen.

"What happened?" he asked after coughing several times. Alfred stepped forward to offer him a glass of water.

"You were kidnapped." Bruce gave the edited version. "The fine men at our local police force rescued you," he lied smoothly. "If you'll give me your name, I can try to find your home for you."

There were long moments of just gaping. The boy muttered the word 'kidnapped' a few times before getting around to actually answering.

"Draper. I mean, my name. Is Alvin Draper." He shied away from them and Alfred felt his heart wrench in sympathy.

"Alvin Draper," Bruce repeated the name. It didn't sound familiar to him. Maybe the Draper family was local though, and his father (and therefore Alfred by extension) might know them. "Does that sound familiar to you?" he glanced at his butler hopefully.

Alfred seemed just as puzzled, but he didn't show it on his face. "No, Master Bruce, but I have met a great many people in my time."

The boy looked sheepish for a moment before he hesitantly raised a question of his own. "Who are you?" his voice cracked again.

"Bruce Wayne," Bruce made an absent waving motion. "This is my family butler, Alfred Pennyworth," he added, gesturing to his servant and friend.

Alvin made an odd sound and then sunk back down to the bed. Alfred gave the boy a very concerned gaze, but when nothing catastrophic happened, he relaxed.

"Where are you from, Alvin?" he asked in what he knew was a soothing voice. The lad couldn't be from Gotham if he didn't even know who Bruce Wayne was.

"Gotham," Alvin informed him. "Gotham, almost all my life."

Bruce shot the boy a confused look. Maybe he'd been hit in the head or given a very sheltered childhood.

"Where does your family live?" he asked. "We'd be happy to take you home, or bring your parents here, if you give us an address."

"They. No. I don't…" Alvin tilted his head down so his grimy bangs fell over his eyes. "They're dead."

Bruce swallowed harshly. He found his newly grown soft spot for orphans irritating, at best.

"I'm going to see when he's to be discharged." Bruce told Alfred, turning to go find a nurse. He could take the kid home with him. It wasn't as if Wayne Manor wasn't large enough.

Alvin and Alfred stared after him in shock and it seemed as if the boy might protest, but no one said anything.

Bruce headed down the hallway slowly, his own emotions were bubbling. He needed a minute to calm them back down. By the time he found the blonde girl again, he was back to playing the part of Bruce Wayne, playboy-millionaire.

"The boy, Alvin Draper, has finally woken up. He says he's an orphan, so I'll be paying his bill, do you know when he is to be discharged?"

As he said it he began to make a mental list. He'd need to officially take the kid as a ward, he'd have to find a school…Maybe Alfred could do some of this.

"He's awake?" the young woman asked, surprised. She rushed towards the room. "That's wonderful, I mean wonderful. He could go home tomorrow or…" She was babbling, so Bruce tuned her out.

Bruce leaned against the wall, watching her work without interest. He'd inform Alfred and Alvin of his decision, and the boy's release date, once he got rid of her again.

There was a lot of semi-medical mumbo-jumbo thrown around between the nurse and the doctor. Lots of poking and prodding and the kid looked irritated by the end of it.

"Well," the doctor said with a smile. "He'll stay, just tonight, to make sure he stays stable and he can go. Its very kind of you to take care of him, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce tried to smile and failed. "I know."

The grimace of a smile was getting somewhat painful, so he fell silent and just looked at the beaming physician pointedly. Eventually, they left again.

"You'll be coming to Wayne Manor, with me, tomorrow," he announced to Alvin plainly.

The kid nodded, his sullen nature was baffling to Bruce. He didn't want to ask any more questions about it though. His shoulder hurt and Alvin looked tired.

"We'll come get you in the morning, rest up," Bruce managed to be pleasant one last time before he motioned to Alfred.

In the hall, Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to stem his irritation elsewhere. He wondered, belatedly, just what had possessed him to do that. He decided that he'd just overdosed on empathy, and everything would work out.

"Quite compassionate of you, Master Bruce," Alfred said, giving his employer a questioning look. He didn't press it, he knew his job was the drive the car back to the Manor and make sure Bruce got to bed.

"What can I say?" Bruce drawled, ignoring the blonde nurse's cheerful wave on the way out. "A moment of commiseration overtook me, and it seemed like a good idea." He took a deep breath of the night air, and climbed into the car. "Or, you could blame it on spending too much time underground," he added under his breath, once the car doors were closed.

He couldn't so much see Alfred's smile as hear it. "Of course, sir," he murmured and that was the end of affairs for tonight.

x x x x x

In the morning, Bruce woke up stiff. His arm ached and Alfred was prodding him. He growled and opened one eye to glare at the old butler.

"Rise and shine, Master Bruce," Alfred declared leaving the protein drink on the side table. "We have an appointment to keep." Birds were chirping and the sun was shining and Bruce had to wonder what the fuck they were so cheerful about.

"Did I go binge drinking last night, and not remember?" Bruce wondered, grabbing the protein drink to chug it down.

"No, Master Bruce," Alfred answered as he went to the wardrobe to begin pulling out clothes. "Today you need to check an orphan out of the hospital, then you have a meeting, one with Mr. Fox and another with Mr. Queen from Star City."

"Great," Bruce drew the word out, dropping down to the floor, to do his morning pushups.

"Come now," his butler cheered. "Let's see some enthusiasm," he became very sober after saying this. It was odd enough to make Bruce look up. "Sir, what are you planning on doing about young master Draper?"

"Didn't think that far ahead," Bruce admitted, grimacing a bit. His shoulder wasn't happy with the strain of the pushups. "But, I wasn't sending someone his age to an orphanage."

"Shall I go to the courthouse and see about the legal proceedings?" Alfred inquired, finally deciding on a tie that would be appropriate.

"Yes, thank you, Alfred," Bruce called as he made his way to the shower.

Bruce was pretty sure Alfred could have handled checking the boy out of the hospital all by himself, but he felt the urge to go. If he was going to be taking care of this kid—which he wasn't, it would probably be Alfred's job—he needed to start off on the right foot. Maybe there would be a reporter and he could use this to his advantage.

Besides, it wasn't like he knew anything about raising teenagers. Finding out a bit more about this kid might be a good place to start.

He was still musing to himself as he began to make out a things-to-do list, for the day. When he went to his meeting with Fox, he would need to get the rip in his Batsuit mended. He should also go find Rachel, at some point. She would be able to fill him in on what he was getting himself into.

When they arrived at the health center, Alvin was actually sitting in the waiting room. He was in the far corner, curled up in the shadows, watching the door. Bruce gave Alfred a wary glance. The butler urged him to go over and greet the boy while he got the paperwork.

At Mr. Wayne's approach, the boy unfolded himself, his beaten up sneakers settling on the floor. He plucked at the frayed hem of his shirt.

"You're a mess," Bruce noted with a bemused smile.

"Yeah, I kind of am," Alvin replied. He didn't sound like a street kid. He sounded like he lived a few houses up from the Manor.

Bruce quickly added 'take Alvin shopping' to his mental agenda.

"We'll fix that," Bruce promised aloud. "Alfred or I, or both, depending, will get you some new clothes soon."

"You seem like a busy man, Mr. Wayne," Alvin noted in a whisper. Bruce felt his skin prickle. Everything about this boy screamed street kid. Everything. The way he was so guarded, his haggard appearance, the sharp look in his eyes. But he just so plainly wasn't it was driving Bruce to distraction. "You don't have to go to so much trouble for me."

Alfred approached to have Bruce sign the release form before Bruce could even think to answer.

Bruce didn't say anything more to the boy, until they were in the car again. When they were all comfortably seated, it was time to clear up one very important thing.

"Mr. Wayne was my father," Bruce corrected. "You can call me Bruce, or 'hey you', whatever. Just not that." No one, employees excluded, called him 'Mr. Wayne'.

He felt like scum about saying it in such a harsh tone, because it made Alvin wince. Not so much visibly, but it felt like the kid had recoiled without actually moving.

"Right," the boy mumbled and his eyes were freaky, vivid and intelligent and trained on him intently.

"Right," Bruce echoed.

He wasn't prepared for this. Maybe, in addition to talking to Rachel, he should stop at the library and checkout a book on parenting. Then, another problem occurred to him.

What was he going to do about the fucking Bat Signal? Alvin didn't seemed far from stupid. He was bound to notice something amiss eventually. "Alfred," Bruce mumbled to the older man. "When we get home, we need to decide what to do about the items in the basement." What if Alvin opened the Bat Cave by accident? How was Bruce supposed to explain away sidelining as a, somewhat questionable, superhero?

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred nodded and that seemed to be all there was to it. Bruce glimpsed a look at Alvin but the boy gave him a completely blank stare in return.

The car finally halted in front of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce all but jumped out. The kid was going to take some getting used to. Definitely.

"Uh, Alvin is going to need clothes. You two can do that this afternoon right?" he said and jogged up to the building without waiting for an answer. Alvin crawled across the back seat and pulled the door closed.

"Well, young Master Alvin, it seems it is just you and me," Alfred smiled into the review mirror.

"Yeah," the boy said. His mouth twitched a little in what Alfred wanted to think was a smile.

"Welcome to the family."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Birdarangs

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: As I mentioned before, we had a battle with Bruce's character. Movie and Comic Bruce are different and it was hard to decide what we wanted to do with that. If anyone has a suggestion, comment, observation, we would take it graciously. As for Alvin...well. You'll just have to wait and see.  


* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter II: Birdarangs  
**

* * *

Bruce was not in the mood for business matters. He wanted Fox to finish with the corporate dribble, so they could get to more important matters. Like keeping Alvin out of his damn bat cave. 

"Hey, hey, hey," he interrupted finally, losing his patience. "I've got some problems at home, that I could use your help with."

Fox looked up from the papers he'd been reading. "Troubles at home?" he inquired, his tolerance had a much longer fuse.

"Yeah," Bruce gave his noncommittal reply. "I've got a kid that needs to kept out of places he shouldn't be. Do you have a good lock I can use?"

"Probably," Lucius smiled. "Why don't we go take a look?" Bruce really hated how smug he sounded. "Kid proofing the Manor, now there's something I didn't think I'd ever hear from you."

Bruce gritted his teeth, he'd known Lucius would tease him. "Spur-the-moment adoption," he muttered. "I didn't really have time to prepare for it."

"Mighty fine of you." Fox's smile was six miles wide. Bruce just rolled his eyes and continued on his way down to the basement floor.

"I need my spelunking suit patched, too," he added, as they entered the Applied Science Department. "It tore."

Fox's eyes twinkled. "Right," he nodded. "I can fix you up with a kit for that too."

They moved through rows of unused merchandise until Fox stopped, counted up a few boxes…Waited for Bruce to get it down, then opened it up. "You just gotta program a code into this thing," he said, holding up the panel and displaying it. "Its small enough that you could probably slip a thermostat cover over it."

"Perfect," Bruce murmured, accepting it in order to look it over. "Thanks."

"Not at all, Mr. Wayne," Lucius drawled on the name _just_ to piss him off, Bruce knew it.

x x x x x

Alvin stood on a stool in the tailor's waiting. He was mute, like a statue, as the man continued to hem up the pants. He seemed a bit uneasy, his face didn't show it, but just the way he held himself belied his disturbance.

"Do you think I really need the suits?" he asked trying to sound as conversational as possible. "I don't see Mr. Wayne dragging me out to some formal function any time in the near future."

"You never know, Master Alvin," Alfred shrugged. "Master Bruce hosts parties at the Manor and he may also decide to take you out. It is always best to be prepared."

"Hnn, right…one is always in need of a good suit." Alfred wasn't sure if it was possible for the boy's tone to be any more sardonic.

"Master Bruce is trying," the old man pointed out on his employer's behalf. "Try to be patient with him, while he gets the hang of things."

Alvin was very silent for a long time and it was a bit disturbing. "He's young. How old is he?" he seemed uncertain whether he really wanted to ask that question or not.

"Thirty," Alfred supplied. "And you?"

There was a flash in the kid's eyes and his mouth turned into a prickly little line. "Sixteen."

Alfred's expression didn't change, and he merely inclined his head. Inside, he wasn't quite as calm. Bruce was adopting a boy who could be his younger brother. This was the making of an uphill struggle for both of them.

Alvin was finally allowed down from the stool. The tailor went to finish the last parts of the suit and Alfred paid for it at the front desk.

"He's young. This quite seems a lot for him to undertake," Alvin observed and he was drawn in on himself and tense. "He could just send me off to a boarding school."

"He wouldn't do such a thing," Alfred very nearly chuckled. "Master Bruce is stubborn. He will not admit when his hands are full. He will take care of everything though, be patient."

Alvin's deep eyes stayed wary, even once they'd left the store and were on their way to the next.

Alfred was beginning to think this really was too much for them, all of them.

x x x x x

"I'm in way over my head," Bruce groaned and rested his face in his hands. He'd caught the train to the DA's office after telling Alfred of his destination so he could be picked up there. Now he sat at Rachel's desk, explaining the newest problem he'd created for himself.

"What possessed you to do that, Bruce?" she asked, collating the strew of papers on her desk. "I mean, yes, it was a great thing to do, but you could have found a foster family and just given them the money instead of taking the kid in yourself."

"You sound like Alfred." Bruce groused. Then took a minute to collect his wits. "It seemed like a good thing to do, at the time. I wasn't going to send him to an orphanage."

Rachel paused and reached out to brush her fingertips over his wrist. "I think you'll be fine. Alfred raised you, he can probably keep this kid in line."

"I'm going to ignore that," Bruce promised with a curve of his lips. "But, in the meantime, is there anything important that I should know? You went to a real high school, with real teenage interaction and all that."

She blinked at him a few times before laughing. "Bruce, he's…a he. A teenage he. He'll probably brood more than you do, lock himself in a room and for the most part leave you completely alone except when he wants money. Or a car." Her smile turned feral and Bruce knew she was imagining a teenage boy asking for the Batmobile.

"He's not finding out about that," he cut in. "Any of it."

"Good plan," she replied, her smile calming, but only just. "So, what is the new Wayne-Brat's name?"

"Alvin." He was used to ignoring her teasing jabs. "Alvin Draper."

Rachel made a face. "That's a boring white-bread-name," she observed. "And you know what?" she continued to muse. "Alvin Wayne makes it sound even worse."

"Alvin is the name he gave," Bruce sniffed.

She kept laughing until he threatened to leave.

Eventually, she kicked him out because she had to get back to work. Alfred would be there to pick up Bruce soon anyway. When the car did finally pull up, Bruce was beyond pleased to find that Alvin was not inside it.

"Did you and Miss Rachel have a pleasant time?" Alfred wondered once they were on their way back to the Manor.

"Nnn," Bruce grumbled.

"Mr. Queen called earlier to tell you there was a problem with his flight and that he will not be into Gotham for another week," Alfred added.

Bruce snorted. He'd forgotten all about that meeting. Apparently he'd lucked out.

"Great, let's just go home, Alfred,"

x x x x x

Dinner was a tense affair. Alfred had decided that, since Bruce was officially adopting Alvin, they should act like a proper family. This included dusting off the dining room table, and eating together.

Bruce hadn't done so in a long time. He was positive that the last time he'd eaten in the dining room was before he'd gone to college. It was a little uncomfortable. Perhaps that was accountable to having nothing to say to Alvin.

"We'll enroll you in school, tomorrow," he told the boy.

When the kid glanced up, he looked completely different from the weak and filthy creature they'd gotten from the hospital. He was clean, for one thing, and wearing clothes that fit for another. His hair was also carefully and meticulously groomed. Bruce wondered if Alfred had done that.

"And where will I be going?" Alvin asked, he sent a wary look in Alfred's direction, but the butler ignored it.

"There's a nice private school, nearby." Bruce said on the offhand. "I was planning on sending you there."

The boy's eyes glazed over a little and he turned his attention back to the food.

Bruce's interpretation of the look turned out to be wrong. As he began to ask if the arrangement was all right, Alvin smiled and said it was fine. It wasn't the twitchy smiles that Alfred had seen throughout the day. This was a large smile with a showing of teeth.

Not entirely convinced, Bruce let it drop. "Did you make it to the courthouse?" he asked Alfred. Maybe once the legal work was complete Alvin would loosen up.

"Yes, sir, I put the paperwork in your study," Alfred replied, and then pointedly heaped more food onto his plate. Bruce bit back a sigh.

"Thanks," he nodded, taking a bite – mostly for Alfred's sake. He still wasn't used to eating such large portions. During his travels, he'd often gone for days on a stolen plum.

"I put young Master Alvin in your old bedroom," Alfred continued and Bruce noticed how Alvin stopped poking at the food in order to glance up at them. What was the kid's problem now?

Bruce offered the teen a tired look. He was questioning everything Bruce and Alfred did for him.

"It's a nice room," he promised Alvin. He didn't even know if that was the problem or not.

Alvin's eyes became narrow and sharp and Bruce found he couldn't even begin to speculate on what that look meant.

"Yeah." After a moment of nothing but staring Alvin shoved some food into his mouth.

Bruce sighed, shoved his still full plate away and stood. Alvin obviously wasn't in the mood for father-son bonding and Bruce really wasn't feeling too paternal at the moment either. He left the dining hall, excusing himself by mentioning starting on that paperwork.

He could feel the kid's creepy blue eyes following him out and he heard Alfred say something but he didn't much care what.

A few hours later Alfred poked his head in to ask if Bruce needed anything before they all turned in for the night. Bruce declined and considered saying goodnight to Alvin…then decided not to. He'd really bitten off more than he could chew with this one. Alfred promised to call the school in the morning and then left Bruce to his brooding.

Bruce had worked his way through the paperwork several hours ago. He would hand it over to Alfred, in the morning. For the moment, he headed down to the Cave. It was time to change and start his patrol.

He hoped that Alvin didn't suffer from somnambulism. He hadn't installed those security locks yet. It would wait until the kid was at school the next day.

He took the time to patch up his suit before heading out, he had spares but the current suit wasn't damaged that badly.

He left all of Bruce Wayne's troubles back at the Manor because he had to pay attention to patrol now, or he'd end up dead.

He ran into James Gordon on a rooftop.

"You hear about the kid you rescued?" Gordon wondered.

"Yeah." Batman answered gruffly. He kept a sharp roving eye while he spoke.

"We can't find any Drapers," James continued.

"You won't, his parents are dead," Batman replied. "He's paranoid and we can't get any more information out of him. Unless _you_ want to run a finger print scan on him."

"Think that would turn anything up?" Gordon rejoined.

"No," Batman grunted. "Wayne is adopting him though. 'Alvin Draper' won't be going anywhere."

Batman didn't wait for another answer before he dove off the roof. The sound of the grapple line accompanied his retreat.

x x x x x

The next morning, Alfred made them eat breakfast together. Bruce protested mightily. He'd been out all night! Couldn't he sleep?

"No," Alfred said. "You have appointments to keep and you must see young Master Alvin off."

Bruce rolled over to stare at him. "I don't think he wants that at all."

"That does not matter, you are going to do it anyway, sir," Alfred insisted.

Bruce gave the butler an incredulous look. Eventually, he rolled out of bed and grabbed a bathrobe. Alfred urged him to get dressed, and not after breakfast. Bruce grunted and waved him off like any other pesky fly.

Alfred had to pick his battles, so they went down to the dining room where Alvin was munching quietly on a bowl of cereal. Bruce was stunned, Alfred never just let him eat cereal. It was always something disgusting like grits because Alfred said he needed the carbohydrates.

He turned to Alfred, and offered him a groggy and hurt face.

"I like cereal too," he reminded. "How come he doesn't have to eat things that he doesn't like?"

Alfred did not deem that with a response, but the implication was that Alvin did not go gallivanting about in the middle of the night. Bruce glanced over in Alvin's direction when he heard the boy make a soft noise…he was smiling. Smiling very self-consciously as if he shouldn't be amused.

Bruce finally sighed tragically, and threw himself down into his seat where he gazed desolately at the grits. He played with a few spoonfuls, before beginning to shovel it into his mouth. It was as though he thought that if he ate fast enough, he wouldn't have to taste it. Alfred wouldn't even give him butter or salt!

Alvin and Bruce both did their best not to look or talk at each other, but Bruce couldn't really help it. He was taking this kid in. He should know him a little? He was intent on saying something, but he peeked up to see the boy bent over a newspaper scouring it relentlessly. Bruce choked down one last spoonful of hominy before trying to ask anything

"What school were you going to before?"

"I wasn't," Alvin replied, his head snapped up and their eyes locked. It was so fucking weird. Bruce almost dropped his gaze before remembering this was just a teenager. Alvin kept his eyes steady and continued. "Home school."

Bruce smiled. Finally! Some common ground, beyond orphans!

"My parents home schooled me too," he told Alvin, feeling a little more comfortable.

The boy's blue eyes looked like they'd blown. As in, his pupils had completely dilated. The kid was a freak, Bruce decided. He realized after a moment that they'd only darkened and Alvin had titled his head down a bit.

"They traveled a lot," Alvin said. "So I stayed home with Mrs. Mac. All the time."

"That's too bad." Despite Alvin's freakishness, Bruce felt a small stab of sympathy for him. "Whenever I'm busy, Alfred will care for you. He raised me for the most part. He's good at it."

The smile Alvin presented to Alfred was so forced that it hurt. Bruce and the butler chose not to say anything about it out of courtesy.

The boy buried himself back in the newspaper, and only resurfaced when Alfred said it was time for him to get going.

Bruce waved goodbye to him and got up to go install the new lock on the entrance to the Cave. Once he'd finished and working, he headed down to get to work on finding information on Alvin.

He searched Gotham for Draper, then Alvin. There was an old woman named Rebecca Draper, she was in Arkham though, had been since she was thirteen. There were also nearly thirty Alvins, none of them matched the description though.

Bruce did a global investigation. He'd theorized that Alvin Draper was a phony name, as he went through more and more files, he felt it had been confirmed.

He uttered an oath and got to his feet. "Alfred!" he shouted, riding the lift back up. "Alfred!"

Alfred was certain that Bruce had lost his mind. He was sitting at the dining room table eating his own breakfast, the other dishes stacked on a tray waiting patiently to be washed.

Panting, Bruce skidded to a halt. Seeing the dishes still there, he grinned and pulled his robe sleeve down to grab the spoon.

"Little rat thinks he can out smart me," he whispered to himself.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired, but Mr. Wayne had already headed back downstairs to get the fingerprints analyzed. If that wasn't enough he could go upstairs and get a hair off the kid's pillow.

However, when all was said and done, Bruce was staring at his computer screen and feeling something akin to betrayal. Nothing. He'd found nothing. Looks like Alvin Draper might be able to outsmart him after all… Damn it! Feeling defeated, he trudged back upstairs to return the spoon to Alfred.

"Master Bruce, are you quite well?" Alfred asked, accepting the spoon and placing it on the tray with the other dishes.

"I'm great," Bruce lied around a yawn. In reality, he was sore and tired. "Ungrateful brat lied, but I'm great."

"Ungrateful brat?" Alfred pressed. He began to tidy up his own dishes.

"Alvin." Bruce was justifiably annoyed. "I'm adopting this kid, and I don't even know his real name!"

"Ah," Alfred inclined his head and gave Bruce a suspicious glance before heading into the kitchen.

Bruce eventually went back to bed despite Alfred's scolding. He was tired and more importantly a millionaire. If he wanted to sleep, he could sleep.

x x x x x

He got up again several hours later and finally got around to showering and dressing. Then it was just a matter waiting for Alvin to come home so he could interrogate him.

When the boy arrived, Bruce was there.

"I think you and I need to have a little talk," the last Wayne stated flatly.

Alvin raked his fingers through his hair but just shrugged and waited patiently for Bruce to get on with it.

"I did a little search on you," Bruce informed him. "Alvin Draper doesn't exist. Anywhere. Who the fuck are you?"

"Do you know if Haly's Circus is supposed to come to Gotham anytime soon?" Alvin wondered.

"Not to my –" Bruce started, then stopped, completely baffled by the change of subject. "Wait a minute! What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything," Alvin shrugged and Bruce was surprised that the kid had already gotten halfway up the stairs while he'd been on backspin. "I've got homework."

Bruce let out a frustrated noise, before coming up with a new plan.

"Tell me who you are or – or you're…grounded!" He was pretty sure he could do that.

"Okay," Alvin nodded. "I'll stay in my room until you say otherwise."

"Damn it!" Bruce had to physically restrain his rage. Since when did grounding someone backfire like that? "Alfred, cut the breaker to Alvin's room!"

This didn't faze the kid and Alfred was about to get him a therapist. Bruce wasn't sure what else to do. He got up there and the boy had a pocket flashlight and _was doing_ his homework.

"Give me that," the young billionaire snapped, snatching the flashlight away.

The boy didn't say a word and he just looked up at Bruce. It was pretty dark and Bruce really only thought the kid was looking at him.

Finally, he switched the flashlight on, and pointed it at him.

"Who are you?" he asked again. "I'm serious about this, kid. If I'm going to take care of you, don't I at least deserve your name?"

"I told you my name, Mr. Wayne," Alvin blinked innocently and then, "How could you not have found me? Who did you ask?"

"Cops," Bruce droned. "Cops did a search for your name and finger prints. I even asked _Batman_, and none of them found anything. You shouldn't exist. Explain. And don't call me Mr. Wayne."

Alvin's eyes were sad and pitiful. "Haywood, my last name is Haywood." Sometime, somewhere, there was a boy named Jason Todd rolling in his grave.

"There." Bruce was not wholly satisfied. "Now, was that so hard? First name too, please, Mr. Haywood."

Alvin ground his teeth. His expression narrowed and he stared at Bruce for a long silent moment. "Still Alvin," he spit.

"Thank you." Bruce nodded, tossing his flashlight back. "I'll have Alfred turn your power back on."

Bruce felt pretty smug when he went downstairs to check the name. He came up with one Sheila Haywood, who, after a scandal in the hospital she'd been working at, had moved to Ethiopia. Well, that was apparently why Alvin hadn't wanted to mention her. She'd been charged with embezzling money.

Whistling from self-satisfaction, he scampered back upstairs to share his grand victory with Alfred.

Alfred offered a thin smile. "Very good, Master Bruce," but he didn't seem all that pleased.

That night, dinner was once again an unpleasant affair. Alvin had a newspaper and was still looking desperately for something. Alfred eventually confiscated the thing. Alvin looked like he might protest, but set his sights on Bruce instead.

"Does Lieutenant Gordon had a daughter?" he asked.

"I think so…" Bruce thought about it for a moment. "I think he has two kids."

"How old?" Alvin persisted. He looked guilty and quickly grabbed his glass of water to hide behind.

"Not sure," Bruce lied. He knew but technically only Batman had been to Gordon's house. "Young."

Alvin gave the impression of being displeased by this and began to eat again.

Freakboy, Bruce declared in his mind.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	3. Batmobiles

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: No. Really. We don't think Ollie is in character. But this isn't _really_ Ollie.

* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter III: Batmobiles  
**

* * *

As the months went on they seemed to settle into a sort of family (_dysfunctional)_ routine. First, breakfast in the morning, then Alvin went to school. Bruce did whatever he needed to do, then Alvin came home and did his homework, they had dinner, Alvin went to bed, and Bruce went off to be Batman. It was going great until finally Bruce had to go to his meeting with Oliver Queen. This set him in a bad mood from moment one. The guy was a cocky bastard. 

"Oliver Queen?" Alvin repeated after Alfred had announced Bruce's appointment over breakfast. "From Star City?"

"Yes," Bruce muttered.

"Is…isn't he married?" Alvin asked. Bruce's head shot up and he stared at the boy.

"Anyone who marries him is brain-dead," Bruce declared. Alfred quietly reprimanded him, but Bruce overlooked him. He and Ollie didn't get along very well. "That jerk has been putting off this meeting for months," Bruce grumbled, to himself. He had wanted to get the whole thing over quickly and with as little pain as possible.

Alvin smiled one of his whispery not-really-there smiles. His adoptive family was getting used to them.

"Have fun," the boy taunted before getting up.

"Isn't it kind of early?" Bruce wondered, glancing at the clock. "You have fifteen minutes?"

"I have to meet some guys from class," Alvin waved it off and kept going.

"He's never going to stop lying to me, is he, Alfred?" Once the large front door shut again, Bruce sighed.

"Probably not, sir," Alfred replied. "But we do not really know the lad. Anything and everything he has said could or could not be true."

"Rachel wasn't exaggerating," Bruce decided, getting to his feet. He had to shower and dress for his meeting with Queen.

Bruce was sure to take his time with that shower. If he could, he wanted to be late, just to make Queen wait. When one has a butler like Alfred though, you're always punctual.

They rolled up before Wayne Enterprises _right on time_. Even with Bruce walking very slowly he still didn't kill enough time. When he got to the conference room…the bastard wasn't there.

Ollie didn't show up for forty-five minutes. When he did bother to appear he paused to flirt shamelessly with the secretary before coming in and taking a seat, lounging gracelessly in a chair.

"Hello, Brucey."

"You're late." Bruce glowered at him. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Oliver, of course, could not stay focused on the task at hand. Not at all. Bruce was ready to smack him by the end. The blonde-jackass kept asking him about parties and his girlfriends and cars and everything but business. Then when it was all over, Queen smiled because he knew Wayne hated him.

"I'm going to that restaurant up the street for lunch, care to join me?"

"No, no, no, no," Bruce blurted, before he had a chance to think up a feasible excuse. "I. Promised. Alfred that I'd have lunch with him." He grimaced. He wondered if Queen knew about Alvin. It had been all over the papers.

Oliver knew and he smirked. "Sure thing, Brucey," he crowed then got up. "So, I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Yeah," Bruce confirmed with a distracted wave. He grabbed his stuff and rushed for the door.

Alfred, of course, was waiting outside in the car for him and as Bruce climbed in he saw Oliver Queen hitting on adark-haired girl standing at the street corner. She smiled at him and took the hand he offered. Well, at least the jaggof had a replacement date already.

Upon arriving at the Manor, Bruce settled in to wait for his wayward ward. He waited and waited and waited…and waited. Alvin came back around five, but Bruce had been busy doing Bruce Wayne things at that point. He couldn't even come sit down for dinner.

And when he left to do his patrols as Batman, Alvin pounced on the opportunity to sneak out again. Needless to say, Bruce was not a happy billionaire, when he arrived back to find his adoptive son gone at such an unholy hour. He sat down on Alvin's bed to keep watch.

He was getting a little tired of waiting and more importantly of Alvin, namely his lying. The boy had said earlier that he was going with his group to the library to work on a project. He had murmured something about how the others were kind of intimidated by the Manor, blah, blah, blah, they all knew it was a lie.

Then, according to Alfred, the teen had disappeared into his room to do even more homework, after dinner. Bruce had assumed he'd stayed there until he had discovered otherwise.

He had thought to wait in the front hall, but then decided he would have a better chance of catching the kid if he waited in his room. Sure enough, the boy eventually crawled in the window, looking tired, disheveled and irritated.

"Ahem." Bruce cleared his throat, lounging sprawled across Alvin's bed.

"I had someone to talk to," Alvin said simply. He moved towards the wardrobe and pulled off his battered looking shirt. Then he began scrounging around for something to wear to sleep.

"It's five a.m. I've been here since three," Bruce pointed out. "Who could you possibly need to talk to at three a.m.?"

"Where were you at three a.m.?" Alvin shot back, sounding impatient.

Bruce hesitated. He had gone to great lengths to keep Alvin from having any knowledge of his psuedo-alter-ego.

"Working," he said finally.

"So was I," Alvin rejoined.

"I'm sure," Bruce wasn't to be fooled again. "How _is_ that homework coming, by the way?"

He saw Alvin's mouth compress into a thin line. "I've got my coursework done for the next six months."

"Let me see it." Bruce narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "All of it."

The kid went over to the desk and pulled a large binder from one of the drawers. He held the heavy thing out to Bruce.

"It's all there. Organized by subject."

Bruce took the folder and stared at it for a moment.

"You're still in trouble for sneaking out in the middle of the night," he declared. He climbed off of Alvin's bed to go into his own study, and begin going sorting this crap. "I'll think of an appropriate punishment tomorrow."

Bruce was in over his head. He was definitely in over his head. No, really. What the hell was he supposed to do with this kid? How had the kid gotten all the assignments? That was a better question, and he added it to the growing list.

For now, all he could think to do was sit down and begin reading through the papers. He fell asleep at his desk doing about an hour later, and that was how Alfred found him the next morning.

Bruce was rousted for breakfast, but Alfred quickly caught on to the irritated looks that Bruce kept sending in Alvin's direction.

"Do you want me to go to school?" Alvin wondered unflappably from behind a glass of juice.

"School?" Bruce looked like he was about to reach the end of his rope. Alfred once again considered therapy. Bruce's agitation seemed to be growing progressively more explosive. "Do I want you to go to school?" Bruce let out an angry bark of laughter. "I want you to go to –" He cut himself off, under Alfred's stern look. His friend knew exactly what he had been about to say. "School," Bruce spat, standing up and leaving the dining hall promptly.

Alvin Draper-Haywood smirked. Alfred caught it and gave the boy a tacit look of confusion. Alvin just shook his head and headed for the door.

"See you after school," he called.

Alfred went to make sure Bruce hadn't hung himself out of sheer exasperation. He found the last Wayne muttering under his breath in, what Alfred was certain was, Chinese.

"Master Bruce?" the butler asked. He was scandalized by everyone's behaviour this morning.

"Yeah?" Bruce glanced up at him.

"Sir, is there some issue I should address with young master Alvin?" Alfred continued warily.

"He should to stop lying, stop sneaking out in the middle of the night. In general, he should stop being such an unpleasant person." Bruce listed off.

Alfred nearly smiled. Young Alvin and young Bruce had several bemusing similarities. "I would not fret, Master Bruce," Alfred soothed.

"Wandering around Gotham at three in the morning!" Bruce ranted. "Gonna get mugged, raped, or killed. You know, I think I saw him in drag. Yesterday, with Oliver." Perhaps, he was, as Rachel had so delicately put it, burning the candle at both ends. He collapsed down into the nearest chair, resting his face in his hands.

"I will talk to him when he returns home from school," Alfred promised. "For now, you do have a meeting with your board."

"Oh my _God_!" Bruce let out a strangled scream. He wasn't cut out to be Bruce-fucking-Wayne. He should just get his bat ears surgically attached and be done with it. Be Batman full time.

Alfred patted him on the shoulder, but that was the end of argument. He got Bruce into the shower, got him into a suit, and then got him out the door.

Bruce barely stayed awake through the meeting, and when it was over, he came home and went straight to sleep. Alfred, of course, was awake to greet Alvin as he had promised. The two had a small talk right there in the front hall, but Alfred did not get any further than Bruce.

Alvin retrieved his binder from Bruce's study and returned it to his own room. Then told Alfred that he would help with dinner so someone could keep an eye him.

Later, when Bruce heard this he shot the boy a truly frustrated look.

"The Haly Circus is coming in a few weeks," Alvin said in response to the glare.

Bruce rubbed his eyes. "You're not seriously expecting me to take you to the circus, after last night's fiasco?"

"I need to go, it's important," Alvin answered.

"Fill me in and I'll think about it," Bruce gave his condition. "Because I," he wasn't feeling any better and his tone came out snappish. "am _determined_ to make this damn adoption work out! That means you have to quit acting like a guarded, spoiled brat, and be honest with me!" His tone had gotten louder and louder, and he was yelling. "I will not tolerate one more lie from you! I don't have the time to deal with this shit! If you like living here, you'll cut the crap and straighten up. Or, obviously, you don't live here anymore."

The kid looked honestly torn. "My name…No. Tell Batman he has to be there." Alvin declared, then got up and left.

Bruce stared after him. Well, that hadn't worked either. He was out of plans.

"I wasn't ready for this," he admitted. "Not ready to even be thinking about a child. Especially a child that doesn't like me, and isn't going to be of any use." He would happily settle for one or the other. Affection or usefulness, as of yet, Alvin had offered neither.

They heard the front door open and then close and Bruce cursed under his breath a few more times.

x x x x x

Dick did another twist and was caught up by his father's strong arms. The other acrobats cheered with tremendous enthusiasm. They'd been working on that move all day! Safely back on the ground, Dick's mother patted his shoulder.

"Good job, little robin," she congratulated and pressed a paper cup of water into his hands. He smiled at her and after drinking down the water declared he was starved. Then he rolled out of the tent. He made his way briskly to where Leila was cooking some grilled cheese sandwiches on her tiny portable grill.

He had already sidled up to flirt with her when he noticed she was already engaged. There was a small boy sitting in the tall grass beside her booth.

"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Dick." He was happy to see someone his age. He never got to _just hang out_ with people his own age.

The boy looked up at him and smiled. "Hi Dick, I'm Tim," he offered. It felt ridiculous for him to say that. Tim knew who Dick was and would always hate the man for willfully going by that name.

"Nice to meet you," Dick beamed and sat down by them.

"I think Tim here wants to join the circus," Leila teased in her soft voice. Tim let a flush spread over his cheekbones.

"No, my dad…Jesus, he would be pissed."

"He can do some pretty nice moves, Dick. Not as nice as you, of course," she soothed.

"Is your dad here?" Dick glanced around, seeking out any unfamiliar faces.

"No, thank god," Tim was grinning and Dick really couldn't help but grin back. He elbowed the kid.

"You'll be at the show this weekend, won't you?" he said, flirting shamelessly like he did with every person under the sun.

"With any luck," Tim nodded. Leila leaned over the wooden stall to watch them.

"You should get him a couple tickets, Dick," she suggested.

"Yeah." Dick agreed. He jumped back up to find some. He knew there was an extra roll stashed somewhere.

He had to be very sneaky about getting them out of Haly's desk drawer, but he did return with about four little red tickets.

"Right, you've got no excuse not to come now," Dick said, pressing them into Tim's hand and holding it there, lingering for a moment.

"I might be grounded," Tim pointed out, his lips curving sardonically.

"Sneak out then," Dick crowed. He grabbed Tim's wrist and hauled him up. "Now, I want to see these skills you have, personally."

Tim allowed himself to blush again and then tentatively went into a series of rolls and jumps. He was nowhere near as graceful or flexible as Dick, but he could execute the moves.

Dick was impressed enough, apparently. He came over and grabbed Tim by the waist, twirling him around and giving him great acclaim. Dick was happy. Friendly. Open. In a way Tim had never seen; he smiled and felt the weight of _this _world settle onto his soul, suffocating him.

Dick grinned for him, and turned as someone called him. Waving, he ran off again.

x x x x x

Tim went home that afternoon. Home to the Drake's house. He sat on the curb in front and watched as the Drake's boy played by himself in the driveway. Janet and Jack wouldn't be home from their travels until later that afternoon and Mrs. Mac was inside reading a magazine.

Tim jumped when a familiar car rolled to a halt in front of him. Bruce had found him faster than he'd expected.

"Come on, Alvin," Bruce's shout was pithy. Tim dusted off his jeans and got into the car, ignoring Mr. Wayne's scowl.

Bruce said nothing more, once he was in the car. Bruce was upfront with Alfred, instead of in the back seat. It was clear that he had already giving up all hope for a warm-and-fuzzy relationship.

"I have tickets to the circus," Tim murmured. He'd given up hope on Bruce by now too, though. This Bruce was too young and inexperienced.

"And?" Bruce glanced back in his direction. "You've given me no reason to reward you."

"It isn't about me," Tim tried to explain for the millionth time. But he couldn't do it. Not without flat out saying what was going on and he couldn't do that. Not until he had proof. Which he didn't have. He'd been sneaking out for weeks trying to find fucking proof and he hadn't found it! He cursed and thought about Dick, how he'd smiled.

Bruce turned away from him again. He seemed so desperate to get there.

"We'll see how you behave," he decided.

"I haven't actually done anything wrong," Tim pointed out.

"You were out at three in the morning," Bruce responded back. "I say that's wrong."

"So were you," Tim shrugged.

"My situation was entirely different."

"I know all about your situation, Bruce," Tim growled under his breath and got out of the car quickly, when they arrived at the Manor. He had two days to prove himself worthy of going to a fucking circus. It would have seemed really stupid if Tim didn't know what was at stake.

"No…" Bruce whispered as he got out and walked past. "You don't."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Redbirds

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: I just don't know what to say. I can't decide whether people are reading this going 'what the hell?' or if they're going 'hey, this is interesting.'

* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter IV: Redbirds  
**

* * *

Thursday and Friday were the most peaceful days Bruce had ever experienced. It was absolutely blissful, until Friday afternoon, when he was about to leave Wayne Enterprises. He was _this close_ to leaving, when Lucius presented him with an envelope. 

"What's this?" Wayne wondered, holding the envelope up to the light.

"Tickets to Haly's Circus." Fox smiled. "It's the first big thing to come to Gotham since the gassing, it'll be good if you go. Cheer people up."

"Alvin has been bugging me about this thing," Bruce admitted, opening the envelop with a sigh. "Looks like he lucked out."

"Maybe you guys can bond…or something," Fox suggested weakly. He was pretty sure that was the last thing Bruce had in mind.

"Bonding." Bruce snorted, as though it were the funniest thing ever. "Bonding! That, sir. Is a good one." He actually applauded.

Fox made a noncommittal sound. "You gotta live with him, not me."

"And that is why I envy you," Bruce imparted him with that bit of enlightenment as he left the boardroom.

"Try to have some fun, Mr. Wayne," Fox called after his retreat. "It is a circus."

"I'll try," Bruce promised, waving vaguely over his shoulder.

When Bruce got home he found Alvin sitting on the front steps of the Manor. He really didn't know what to make of that because the teen should have been at school.

"Skipping classes is not a positive thing to be doing, kid," Bruce pointed out.

Alvin looked up, his eyes sharp. "I asked Alfred to come get me, you know I have my class work done. I brought my transcript and grades to plead my case one last time."

"So, why couldn't you wait the two hours until you were dismissed?" Bruce wondered. "It builds moral fiber."

"I was bored, and I wanted two more hours to try and convince you to just take me to the circus. Instead of me sneaking out tomorrow night," Alvin elaborated.

Bruce eyed him dryly, before handing over the envelope. "You should be kissing Luscious Fox's feet about now."

He watched Alvin break into the only sincere grin he'd ever seen. "You're coming too, aren't you?" the boy asked.

"Have to," Bruce admitted, sounding more begrudging than he really needed to. "Those tickets are on behalf of Wayne Enterprises. My appearance is supposed to be a city wide morale boost."

"Great," Alvin sighed, and Bruce caught a whiff of Tim in that voice. He didn't understand what that meant. All he knew was, this kid was no fucking Alvin. "That's just great."

Then Alvin got up and headed inside. Bruce wondered if he could really be as ungrateful as he had just sounded.

x x x x x

Bruce really didn't enjoy the circus. When one of the acrobats approached them, he still managed to pull up a semi-convincing smile for him, though.

"Hey!" Dick called with tumultuous excitement when he spotted Tim. Dick wormed his way through the crowd to hug him. He noticed the odd look that Bruce Wayne gave them. "Is this your dad?" the young circus performer asked in surprise.

"No," Tim shook his head.

He was stunned to hear Bruce say, "Yes." Dick stood between them, confused, and Alfred was thinking that there was no hope for their family. "Adoptive father." Bruce elaborated in recovery. "He's still getting used to it." He went so far as to ruffle Alvin's hair, in warning.

Tim tensed up under the gesture and gave Dick a pathetic look.

"Well, can I kidnap your adopted son until the show later?" Dick wondered with a feral grin.

Bruce looked between the two boys.

"If you don't come back when you're supposed to," he leaned down to hiss in Alvin's ear. "You won't see daylight for a year." He felt he had no choice but to be drastic, especially under the circumstances.

Alvin glared back at him, purely out of principal. Then Dick snatched up his hand and pulled him away.

They walked through the crowded fair while Dick talked, pointing out the crappy rides and telling the most amusing stories. The ones the customers aren't supposed to know like how the guy running it really lost his arm. Tim couldn't help but smile.

They were breaking off large pieces of a pretzel and waiting for the sun to go down before Tim finally managed to slip in something.

"Hey, Dick, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, why? Do I seem all brooding?" the acrobat wondered, smirking.

"Sort of," Tim answered in a quiet voice. "I would appreciate it if you would tell me."

Dick pressed another piece of pretzel into his mouth and turned his eyes back to the dusky sky. They had about half an hour before he needed to go the main tent to get ready for the show. He chewed in a guarded silence.

Tim felt himself seize up. He didn't know what to do. He hated that.

"Dick." He sounded so afraid that Dick turned to stare at him. Their eyes met and Dick felt ridiculous. He laughed it off.

_The owner wouldn't put them in danger._

"It's fine, man. Teenage paranoia, I bet you've got it bad!" he teased and reached out to ruffle Tim's hair, just like Bruce had.

Tim ducked and watched him intently. "Dick, please. It's…"

"It'll be okay. Look, I need to go talk to the owner. I'll see you after the show. Okay?" Dick clapped Tim on the shoulder before he sprang into a flip. He paused to grin at Tim before swaggering away.

x x x x x

Alvin felt like he was about to die. He went to find Bruce. He had to tell him.

He went to search Bruce's seats first, but he found only Alfred.

"I believe Master Bruce went off somewhere with Lieutenant Gordon and Miss Dawes," the butler supplied, upon being questioned.

"Where did they go?" Tim asked. Tim didn't panic. But he was about to panic. He'd made an awful mistake waiting this long. He should have told Bruce right away. So, they could avoid this. But he'd kept deluding himself, telling himself that things were different. That if Oliver Queen wasn't Green Arrow, then Dick's parents didn't have to die. But they were going to and Tim had to stop it. It would be best if he could get Bruce's help, but he would do it himself, if he had to.

"I'm not sure," Alfred admitted, looking bewildered. "Out into the fair, I would assume."

They had fifteen minutes and Tim hurried to try and find a carnival worker. They were all busy though. None of them would stop to listen to him. He even tried to the ringmaster, but the man just waved him off. So, Tim took off at a run to find Bruce. He was caught in a sudden wave of people trying to get into the tent.

He'd fucked up. He'd _fucked_ up. He saw Bruce coming back with Rachel and Gordon.

"Bruce," he called pathetically, trying to fight his way to the man's side and failing. He was jostled backwards into the tent. He very nearly lost his cool and shoved the people out of his way, but he eventually wormed through them. He grabbed Bruce's arm before the man could try to go up into the stands.

"Bruce," he panted. "The wires are going to snap. The Graysons are going to die…" The ringmaster stepped forward and announced the opening parade was about to begin. "Fuck, Bruce, please, don't make me explain! We just have to save the high wire act."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but the show started before he could. The lights swiveled dizzyingly, the animals began their parade, the tightrope, trapeze, and high wire artists began to swing…and a shocked gasp swept through the tent. Bruce couldn't even bring himself to look. He heard Alvin make a wounded sound as if he were the one who had just fallen to his death.

Tim looked around frantically until he spotted Dick standing at the bottom of the column. He was supposed to climb up when their act began. He was supposed to take his time climbing up the high pole, giving the audience an exaggerated sense of the height and the danger…Tim left Bruce standing there and ran forward to Dick. The audience shrieked around them…and Bruce watched as Alvin and Dick clutched at each other.

The tent was evacuated quickly and efficiently, until only six people remained. Even the circus folk had all cleared, well, save one. Dick and Tim were still huddled together, across the tent. Gordon couldn't fathom what had happened, and Rachel and Alfred had to physically drag Bruce back to his seat.

He couldn't cope. He was still fucking raw from his own parents demise. Vivid memories swept over him. He was chilled, the distinctive smell of a Gotham alleyway wafted past his nose.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked quietly, putting his old wrinkled hand on his forearm. Rachel sat on the other side, offering her presence as comfort.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally shaking his head. He was lost in his own thoughts. He could have saved them. The Graysons. Alvin had told him what would happen. What kind of hero was he if he couldn't even save two people? He sat in silence for an indeterminate amount of time. It felt like forever to him and probably did to Dick Grayson as well.

Bruce felt himself grow unaccountably angry when Gordon said there was nothing. No clues.

His eyes shot straight to Alvin.

He knew…

They would have to talk.

Bruce got up and made his way over to the two dark haired boys.

Alvin stared up at him…his face tear streaked and he had Dick Grayson hugged to him tightly.

"Alvin, you have to tell me…"

"Bruce, don't leave him alone!" Alvin begged even as his voice cracked with his desperation.

"What do you expect me to do with him?" Bruce's eyebrows knit. "Alvin, I'm not even ready to take care of you – I think we've both grasped that by now. What do you expect me to do with another teenage boy?"

"No, please, Bruce, I'll tell you everything, but only if you take care of him!" Alvin hissed darkly. Dick sat up slowly and looked at Bruce, he hadn't been listening to what they were saying. He was just now aware that Mr. Wayne was even there.

"I…" Bruce looked down at the two boys, and tried so hard to work up the courage to refuse. Then he saw himself, twenty years ago, clinging to Alfred as he sobbed out his sorrows, mourning the recent loss of his beloved parents. His heart melted and he swallowed, nodding without another word.

Dick had no idea what that meant, but Alvin let out a choked noise.

They could have stopped it.

He'd fucked up. He'd had the chance to make Dick's life better. He'd had a fucking chance to make his brother, his mentor, one of his best friend's life fucking better and he'd _FUCKED UP_!

Alfred came over and herded his family towards the car. Newest member and all.

x x x x x

For the most part, Bruce left Alvin and Dick alone. He didn't bring up Alvin's grounding, he didn't pester him to go to school, he didn't do anything even vaguely parental.

He withdrew. Despite Alfred's efforts, Bruce began taking his meals in his study, wanting to give the boys their space. A few days later, for the first time, Alvin sought _him_ out.

"I'm not Alvin Draper nor Alvin Haywood," the kid confessed quietly. It was nearly midnight so Bruce figured Dick must have been asleep. Otherwise Alvin wouldn't have come here alone. "My name is Timothy Jeffery Drake."

Bruce looked up at him, blinking once with mute interest. He'd been doing Bruce duties, in preparation to go do his Batman duties. In all honesty, he had been shirking his patrols. The circus had thrown him, and part of him feared that he would fail again. But, he reasoned, if he wasn't there, it wasn't his fault.

"Honesty. How refreshing," he remarked.

"I couldn't tell you," Tim protested. "You're so young. You're so different."

"What are you talking about?" Bruce wondered, slumping in his chair.

"I know you Batman," Tim murmured. "I know you because I came from somewhere else. A different time-stream. Where this already happened. Dick is like my big brother there. I mean, that nine-year-old who lives next door, the Drake's kid. That's me."

Bruce looked very much like he'd have loved to be anywhere else, at that moment.

"And I'm not like this, where you're from?" Bruce said, latching on to the only thing that made sense.

"No. You're not. My Bruce would have known the second I snuck out. He would have had tracers on me the moment I set foot in here. He would have known both names were fake…He doesn't get angry and…" He isn't so fucking incompetent. Tim wanted to add, but he knew it wasn't true. This Bruce was just young.

Bruce stared at him for a few more seconds, before getting to his feet. Gotham would live one more night without the Batman. He enjoyed sleeping.

"Sorry to disappoint you." He tried, and failed, to sound nonchalant.

"You have to take in Dick," Tim whispered.

"Why's that?" Bruce paused by the door. In truth, he'd been planning on it, another one of those moments of commiseration striking out at him.

"I don't know what will happen if you don't, Bruce," Tim cried out and Bruce was stunned by the amount of emotion. This was a different person. Yet _another_ different person, another mask for this kid. Was this finally the real one?

"I was planning on it," Bruce promised him with a great ammount of sincerity. "I know how he feels. I can't imagine how it would feel to be shipped off, after watching…that," he sounded more uncomfortable than ever, and he sped up his pace to leave.

Tim turned away as well and hurried back to where Dick was sleeping.

The other teen wasn't asleep any longer, he was standing at the window. He turned expectantly when Tim came back.

Sixteen-year-old Dick. He was too young, just like Bruce, but all Tim could do was go to them. He walked slowly around the bed and wrapped his arms around Dick.

"It hurts," the acrobat complained quietly, he still couldn't cope.

"I know," Tim soothed.

"I want to hurt who did it," Dick growled, pulling Tim in closer.

"There's a system." The words felt acidic in Tim's mouth. If Boomerang hadn't already been dead, Tim would have killed him. He knew right now he wanted to hurt Zucco, but he didn't know how much he could do, or if the mobster had even been responsible in this world. He was a stranger in this timeline, and he shouldn't meddle. He _shouldn't,_ but he found his lips pressed to Dick's anyways.

"Help me, Tim?"

"I'm not from around here," Tim protested, trying to draw away, but he found he didn't want to.

"Does it matter?" Dick asked, kissing him again, their teeth clacked. "Help me."

"Yes."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	5. Grapples

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: So, I'm seriously looking for concrit on this chapter. There's something that I just don't like about it.

* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter V: Grapples  
**

* * *

The following days were long and agonizing for everyone. Alfred at last resolved to drag Bruce out of his study, by his hair if necessary, and _make_ him interact with his children. Young Mr. Wayne wasn't thrilled about the prospect, but he eventually relented. It was during these brief periods of contact that Bruce noticed a pattern forming. Every time Tim left for school, Dick looked unhappy. Bruce began to formulate a solution. 

Bruce wasn't even sure how the two of them had met or why they were so attached now. Tim had explained about his timeline and Dick's role in it, but Dick didn't know about any of that. The Grayson boy spent a lot of time pacing around, his pacing often involving halfhearted handstands and walking atop tables. It was a depressing, in a sad clown kind of way.

Bruce couldn't take for long.

"So, Dick," he interrupted, leaning against the doorway. "Have you had any schooling yet?"

"Mom taught me," the kid answered, crouching on a chair in a way that made Bruce's legs ache.

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "How old are you?" he wondered.

"I turned sixteen on the first of spring," Dick answered, his shoulders slumped and he looked up a Bruce dolefully.

Bruce tried to think up something else to say. But, Bruce still felt like he needed _his_ father! How was he supposed to be one?

"How did you meet Tim?" he asked after much deliberation.

Dick blinked at him slowly for a long moment before he seemed to realize something. "He showed up a few days before the show and just hung around…" he shrugged. "He seemed to know me so well…we just kinda bonded."

Bruce's expression crumbled a bit. Tim said he knew Bruce in the other world too! Why couldn't he bond with the little brat?

"Right," he droned. He was ten seconds away from doing the only thing he was good at, when it came to these kids: leaving.

Dick unfolded himself gracefully from the chair and moved towards him with intent. "Thank you for taking us in, Mr. Wayne," he said.

Well, Bruce noted, maybe he could at least bond with this one.

"We can be a whole dysfunctional, slightly insane, family of orphans," Dick added cynically and left the room.

Or not, Bruce corrected.

It was a disheartening to know that he had taken in the two orphans in Gotham who wanted nothing to do with him. What else was he supposed to do with them?

Bruce let out a loud puff of air, and headed for to the entrance of the Bat Cave. It was the one place in the house that was really his. He knew he'd be able to think there, not as though his attention was being demanded so much upstairs.

He stared at his terminal for an extensive stretch of time, just going through files in no particular order. He found the one he'd begun on Alvin Draper, and deleted it. Then went to find the one about Alvin Haywood. Once that was gone, he began a brand new one for Tim Drake, and then entered Dick Grayson. He'd acquired two sons in the past five months. He wondered how many other people could brag about that?

As he entered the information about Dick, he found his mind wandering. No clues Gordon had said. And…Bruce had fucked up. He should have looked himself. If he wanted to catch the Grayson's murderer he would have to start from square one.

x x x x x

Usually, Batman made a habit of only going out at night. Bruce made an exception this time. He rose and changed into his suit right then. He had a lot of ground to cover and not much time.

The first place he went to visit was the remains of the circus. The carnival people were all packing up miserably. Their high wire act had been murdered and their owner had committed suicide, taking whatever clues he'd had to the grave. Batman spent several hours talking to every person he could find and not getting any closer to his goal.

He looked at what was left of the crime scene himself and like Gordon found nothing. It was time to head into the city and begin probing the scum there. He went back to the Manor in order to change into a disguise.

When he got there, Alfred told him that Tim and Dick had gone out. Bruce felt his skin prickle. Tim was a sneaky, deceptive little bastard. Bruce wondered what kind of trouble they were getting into now.

"Keep an eye out for them, Alfred," he ordered, hurrying to get his disguise.

This Bruce was young and had a lot to learn about disguises. The best he could do in his current stage of development was to change his clothes, glue on a fake goatee, and put on some sunglasses. Oh, and of course, leave his hair uncombed. He nodded to Alfred on his way back out and went to get an appropriate car. Anything too expensive would look out of place downtown.

Bruce spent the afternoon and most of the night wandering around, trying and failing to gather information. Finally, at some bizarre hour of morning, Bruce really didn't care to know, he literally ran smack-dab into two very familiar figures. What were Dick and Tim doing out here in the middle of the night?

Tim and Dick were in an alleyway, Dick was scribbling down something onto a piece of paper, which he then shoved into his pocket and Tim was carefully removing a pair of high heels from his feet and pulling on pants.

Tim didn't even jump when Bruce dropped down beside them. Dick did. He stared with wide eyes.

"Holy shit," he began to say.

Bruce made a sound to cut the boy off, and made a small waving motion with his hand.

"You're making a habit out of this, aren't you?" Bruce wondered, leaning down and picking up one of the stiletto shoes. He really had seen Tim crossdressing, that day…

"You can't go anywhere downtown without a girl on your arm," Tim replied, pulling on a t-shirt now. "And I'm the only one who can pull it off." Dick was looking back and forth between them until Tim spoke up. "Dick, it's fine, it's just…dad…" the word came out of his mouth as if it were something foul, but Dick got his meaning.

Bruce felt compelled to hit the boy, for being so insolent.

"Go home," he ordered tightly. "Stay home. I can call Alfred and have him lock you two in your room, if I have to."

"Dick heard someone threaten the owner," Tim murmured. "We came downtown to see if any of the bosses would have been interested in the circus. We've narrowed it down to Zucco, Mefodi, and Cesare."

"You two go home," Bruce repeated. "I can handle it. Better yet, I'll drive you myself."

Tim stuffed his hands in his pockets and didn't say anything, but Dick burst out.

"No, these were my parents! I have to help with this," he growled.

"Listen." Bruce's tone was restrained. "It's my job to keep you safe. Got it? I won't have you out in the middle of the night, hunting down mob bosses alone."

The two boys exchanged a look. "We aren't alone." Then, a light blinded Bruce and a motorcycle that had been hidden behind a dumpster roared to life. That sneaky little fucker had been in the Cave. The kids got on the bike, Tim in front. He cast Bruce an apologetic glance.

"It has to be this way," he called over the rumble of the bike. "We all have to do this together." He didn't know if he could be any more pointed about it, but then he took off before Bruce tried something irritating like gassing them. Tim wouldn't put it past him.

Bruce swore loudly, as they left. He would find them. He would go home, suit up, get the Batmobile, and find them.

There had been tracers on that bike, but Tim had removed them. So all Bruce could do was wander like an idiot and he knew he wouldn't find them. He felt hatred and some grudging respect for Tim Drake.

As he drove through the city he input the three names that Tim had given him. Zucco, Mefodi, and Cesare. Cesare was out of town, so he would have to be the last person Bruce checked in on. For now, he input Mefodi and went to have a little talk with the man.

x x x x x

The crime lord, unsurprisingly, didn't look happy when a six-foot bat jumped down in front of him. Bruce was laughing with glee on the inside.

"How do you feel about clowns and elephants?" he wondered with an air of informality.

"W-what the fuck?" the man stammered backing up a few paces and reaching with a shaky hand for a gun that wasn't there.

"How do you feel about clowns and elephants?" Bruce repeated. "Ever been to the circus?"

"What's this about?" the guy asked, now he was just quaking. "I haven't done nothin'!"

"The recent murder, of two high wire performers," Bruce informed him, approaching with deliberate steps. "I'm sure you heard all about it. Now, I'm looking for is who was behind it." With the ninja speed he'd learned from Ra's al Ghul, he was suddenly inches in front of the man. "Was it you? Someone you know, perhaps?"

"No!" the poor bastard shook his head violently. "I had nothin' to do with that!"

"You're sure?" Batman growled in warning. "I'd hate to find out you're lying and have to make a return trip."

"I'm not lying!" the man cried out in terror, he was desperately pressing on an alert button. Bruce could hear the boss' soldiers coming up the stairs.

"I hope you're right." Bruce hissed, then leapt back up to the window. "For your sake." He said as his farewell.

The next man he went to find was Zucco, who was probably going to pose more of a problem. Mefodi was street level, but Zucco was well known and well feared. He'd have a high-class security system.

Bruce didn't think he was going to have any trouble with it though.

He was Batman, after all. Once he got inside the building, he found seven guards, two Wayne wards, and Zucco's corpse. First priority, get rid of security and rescue the boys.

Dick and Tim didn't seem to need saving though. They fought off the guards just fine. When the room was quiet, Dick walked towards Zucco's body and stared down at him.

"Bastard was dead when we got here..."

"It might not have been him," Bruce said. Tim shot him an irritated look and began to look through the deceased's effects. He found the ticket to Haly's, he found the ledger where the Haly payment was missing. They all knew it had been him. Dick stared at the body for what felt like a millennia. Did he feel cheated? What?

"He can't hurt anyone else now," Dick finally muttered.

Bruce said nothing for a moment, before gesturing for the door.

"You two go home," he ordered for the last time. "I'll call Lieutenant Gordon to get an official investigation going."

Dick gave him an odd look before he left with Tim. This time they did go. Bruce just hoped they actually went back to the Manor. He would call Alfred soon to make sure they were there. First he needed Gordon.

When James showed up he surveyed the scene in shock.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" he asked.

"No." Bruce inclined his head and sat on a table. He felt a pang of regret. "He was dead when I got here."

Gordon turned to one of the other cops and told them to get an ambulance. "But you think this was the guy, from Haly's?" the lieutenant carried on.

"Yes." Batman confirmed. "All the proof you need is in that bag." He pointed to the tickets and such.

Gordon went through the bag. "I saw that your friend, Wayne, took in the Grayson boy too," he noted. He was glad there was evidence, but it didn't really matter if Zucco was dead.

"Yeah." Batman established. "He has an unhealthy soft spot for orphans. Good for the kids."

"There should be more people like him. I don't think Gotham realizes just how many kids lost their parents in the gassing," Gordon murmured, closing up the evidence bag and turning back to him.

"He loves this city." Batman brushed it off and got back to his feet. "He wants to take care of it as best he can." He watched Gordon work, before heading for the door. "I think you've got it covered here. I should go."

Once he was in the Batmobile, Bruce called Alfred. The boys had come home and were now in for the longest lecture of their collective lives.

When he got there, Tim was trying to diffuse him by saying he was tutoring Dick.

"You two can take a break," Bruce said, trying to keep his cool.

"Bruce, it had to be that way," Tim muttered.

"No," Bruce shook his head violently and glared at them. "It didn't. I _told_ you not to go out so late! Do you know how dangerous it is, where you were, at this time of night?" He gestured wildly for the window. "What if something had happened, huh? What do you think I would have done then? You're both _my_ responsibility. How am I supposed to be a father if neither of you will let me? I told you to go home! You didn't listen!"

"No, Bruce, it…" Tim looked at Dick with wide eyes and fear. "It had to be that way. I don't…that's how it goes. The timeline. I went with Dick to make sure he would be alright, but all of this was supposed to happen."

"_Fuck_ the timeline!" Bruce shook his head. "Fuck it! Destiny isn't my problem – you are! I don't claim to know what's best for you, but I at least expect you to give me the time of day when I try to keep you safe!"

Tim frowned. "Keep me safe?" he repeated. "You're more incompetent than I am."

Dick winced. "Knock it off," the acrobat muttered. "Bats, if you're worried, train me."

"No!" Bruce shook his head, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Tim had told Dick he was Batman! "I don't want you trained, I want you to actually sleep when you're supposed to! Both of you."

"I'll train him if you won't," Tim interceded.

Bruce collapsed into exasperated confusion.

"What?" He wondered helplessly. "First, stop undermining me. Next…what?"

"You trained me, he trained me, Shiva trained me, who trained under Ra's al Ghul, just like you did. I can train him," Tim explained.

"I don't know any Shiva," Bruce shook his head, rubbing his now throbbing temples. "And you're not allowed to train him."

"Why not?" Tim asked.

"Because I'm going to." Bruce relented, turning away from both boys. "Get some sleep," he muttered, opening the door to go to bed himself. "We'll start after breakfast."

Bruce would probably have been thankful that he missed the part where Dick jumped on Tim and kissed him senseless.

* * *

_To Be Concluded..._


	6. Capes

Disclaimer: We don't own Batman

Full summary: In the turbulent months after the gassing, Batman comes across an orphan boy by the name of Alvin Draper. He's adopted into the Wayne family, and Bats takes his first step down the road to his future. DickxTim

Warnings: Slash, spoilers, language, and violence

Pairing(s): DickxTim

Fic type: AU, romance

Bizarre speaks: Issues? The story was originally intended to be TimxBruce. But...that's not my pairing. No matter how hard I try. P.S. Raven: the ultimate plot-device.

* * *

**The Interface  
**_by Bizarre Aubrey_  
**Chapter VI: Capes  
**

* * *

The next morning, Bruce wasn't any happier about waking up for breakfast. After several cups of coffee and bowls of oatmeal--Alfred had decided to mix it up a bit that day--he shooed Tim off for school. Then, he motioned for Dick to follow him. He led him straight to the Bat Cave. It wasn't as if his secret identity was a secret from Dick. 

"Unfortunately," Bruce began as he hunted through a storage closet in search of the swords he knew he'd purchased after the reconstruction of the Manor. "We do not have the same harsh environment that I was trained on." He found the twin blades and held one out for Dick. "This will have to do." He gestured to the wet rocks near the cascading waterfall.

Dick followed him, looking at the sword with interest. He was a faster learner and he'd had sharp objects aimed at him before. This was exciting and a grin split his face as he waited for Bruce to begin.

Bruce tried to recall Ra's al Ghul's training. As he remembered, Ra's had begun sparring with him without much warning at all.

"We're training with live steel," he stated. "I suggest you be careful." Then Bruce attacked. He would be mindful not to land any blows until he got a feel for Dick's aptitude.

He shouldn't have been even half as surprised as he was when Dick danced nimbly to the side. The kid was unsure about the use of the sword, but he had dodging down. He made a few awkward slashes, which coming from Dick looked like expert moves that just happened to miss.

They continued for some time, until Bruce eventually managed a low sweeping kick that knocked Dick into the shallow standing water between the rocks.

"Not bad," he complemented, raising his eyebrows and keeping his sword pointed down at the boy casually. One thing he'd learned was never to presume his opponent was defeated, as they so rarely were.

Dick was no exception. He didn't fall. He rolled like the acrobat he was. He was back on his feet by the time Bruce finished speaking.

"Yeah, not bad," he agreed, looking down at Bruce's feet for a moment.

Bruce smirked a little, noticing where the teenager's eyes were.

"Ninja trick," he elucidated. "Get to where you need to be before your enemy notices you're moving." He did an odd twirl with his sword, and let it drop down to his side. "Lesson one: learn to keep your footing."

That was a lesson that Ra's had struggled and long hard to beat into Bruce. The young Wayne hadn't been inclined enough to think ahead about his footing, at the time.

Dick's smile got even wider. "That's fabulous," he said breathlessly. He was really keyed up about this, Bruce noted. Maybe he wouldn't be as moody and bothersome as Tim.

"Again." Bruce motioned for him to get into his stance. "By the end of the week, I want you to be able to sweep me."

The young acrobat took his challenge with vigor. His eyes darkened a little and his fingers tightened on the hilt of the sword.

"Right. Sweep you by the end of the week."

Bruce considered smiling back but instead he curled his fingers for Dick to come at him again.

x x x x x

"You weren't supposed to actually cut me," Bruce berated Dick playfully as he led him back to the lift a few hours later. He examined some of the cuts on his forearms.

He'd landed a few blows on Dick as well; he needed to invest in training guards.

On the up side, he and Dick had bonded. It had lifted Bruce's spirits considerably. They were actually joking and teasing.

Then Tim came home and Dick became even more animated.

"Dick, you're bleeding on my shirt," Tim said, wriggling within his big brother's grasp. Bruce blinked after having that thought. Dick and Tim did act like brothers and this was their family…hell, why not?

Bruce approached them and clapped a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Alfred has bandages upstairs," he directed. The Wayne household was never lacking in bandages "We'll fix the bleeding problem." Come to think of it, he could use a few bandages and a clean shirt. His was bloodier than Tim's.

Tim noticed this and a small smirk tugged at his lips. "Dick was beating up on you," he crowed as they went in search of Alfred.

"It was a mutual bloodbath." Bruce corrected. "It happens." Bruce didn't feel it would do them any good to train with dull weapons.

Alfred tutted at them and Dick was just grinning and babbling to Tim about what they'd done. Tim appeared to be listening as he wrapped a bandage around Dick's forearm.

"Don't be too excited," Tim snorted, his bright blue eyes flashed in a way Bruce hadn't ever seen before. "These are going to be the most grueling months of your entire life."

"Bring it," Dick replied with a cocky smile.

"I'll be sure to take that challenge," Bruce promised him with a straight face and a feral voice. He'd never trained anyone before, but he was in his prime, he was sure he could keep Dick on his toes.

The one who really brought it down on them was Tim. The boy didn't fight with swords. Instead he fought with an extending bo staff, which he had spent a few days fashioning. When it was complete, Bruce and Dick began to sport a field of painful bruises on their shins.

Bruce was impressed by both of them, Tim's current skill and Dick's learning curve. They were eager to spar with each other and Bruce was interested to see it. They didn't seriously fight until Dick had been through several weeks of training. They looked forward to weekends when Tim had the time to spend hours playing with Dick, so Bruce could take not of the acrobat's developing technique.

Jump, roll, lunge, punch…then Tim tackled him, locking his legs and pinning his arms. Dick was panting but smiling.

"Pay more attention to your right foot when you land," Bruce called as they got up.

During the week, it was just Bruce and Dick. Tim went to school, which always dampened Dick's spirits at first. There were some days he would become so distracted, around the time Tim was to return, that Bruce just gave up.

One day, after a particularly fruitful session had gone down the drain, Tim came home and went in search of Dick. When he didn't find him upstairs he went down to the cave. He called up and got no response, but just was he was heading back up the stairs Dick lowered from the ceiling.

He smirked at Tim upside down.

"Learn that today?" the Drake boy smiled.

"Yep," Dick said smugly. "Now, c'mere so we can get in some practical application before Bruce comes back." He had to hold on to the cable, and wait patiently for Tim to come forward. When he did, Tim cupped Dick's cheekbones and pressed up onto his tiptoes to kiss him. They hadn't meant to get into a full blow tongue battle, but neither of them was complaining.

x x x x x

It was six months before Bruce issued Dick a new challenge.

"Your last test begins tonight," he stated. "Twenty four hours on the streets…without being caught by me. You can't have any help."

Dick would never back away from the challenge. He nodded.

"We start now," Bruce declared. "You have ten minutes to get out of here."

That got Dick started and he took off. He got one of the bikes, just to get into town, and then abandoned it.

It was a horrible game of cat and mouse. Running over rooftops, hiding in shadows. Swinging through the streets on a grapple. Twenty-four straight hours, a test of endurance and skill. And Dick passed. He could have jumped up and down with glee, but settled for a handstand. He wanted to go home and tell Tim. Preferably this news would be met with sex.

When it was finished, Bruce went home to give Dick his congratulations as well. He wasn't expecting to get upstairs and find his sons lip-locked together though.

So much for that wonderful, family image that he'd had developing in his mind.

Bruce hadn't wanted to see that. In the months since Dick had arrived, since the first time he'd seen the boys clinging together at the circus, he'd speculated. He'd suspected, and occasionally, during their weekend sparring sessions, when he'd seen that thinly veiled intimacy, he'd gone as far as to wonder…But he'd never wanted to _know_.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was an oddly strangled noise. As Tim and Dick broke apart, Bruce turned and walked down the hallway, feeling numb with shock.

Bruce took a deep breath and decided to talk to them. Mostly Tim. What was the kid thinking? He wasn't from this time stream. Yes, they had been a bit distracted with training Dick, but Bruce had been looking for ways to get Tim back home. Forming attachments with Dick wasn't going to help anything.

"I'm a fucking hypocrite," Bruce muttered to himself. He already viewed both of them like his sons. It was going to kill everyone when Tim had to leave.

At dinner the boys had no reason to think anything was amiss, even when Bruce asked to talk to Tim for a moment. Then the actual conversation began and Tim's face closed off and he drew in on himself.

"You're brothers!" Bruce cried, his petulance and indignation made him sound even younger than ever. "Not blood brothers, but still! Are you two like that in your time stream too?"

Tim clenched his jaw, Bruce could see the muscles working even from where he sat in his desk chair.

"No," Tim spit. "I…have a different lover in my timeline. But I have never wanted Dick to just be my brother."

"So, you decided to come here and move in on a moment of weakness?" Bruce was having trouble comprehending. For all his book smarts and fighting skills, he really couldn't figure Tim out. He had the terrifying suspicion that Tim liked it that way. "You weren't satisfied with _your_ Dick, and you wanted another to try again? Explain this to me!"

He saw his '_son's_' eyes flash. "You know that isn't it!" Tim said quietly. He wasn't the type to be angry of vindictive, Bruce knew this, but he could tell Tim was on the cusp. "You know I did all I could."

"Did you?" Bruce answered coolly.

Tim froze under his words. "I…" he trailed off.

"I know _I_ fucked up at that circus, but I didn't know." Bruce stood up from his chair and started toward him. "You did. Are you _sure_ you put as much effort into it as you could?"

"You were getting in my way," Tim whispered, staring up at him.

"That didn't stop you any other time," Bruce hissed. "You aren't the kind of person to make excuses, Tim. Own up."

"He needed me," the kid shook his head.

"Or you needed him."

"Not enough to let his parents die!" Tim protested.

"If that wasn't it, why did you, when you KNEW?" Bruce nearly roared. Then he watched one--and only one--tear force it's way from Tim's eye. The Drake boy got himself back under control after that.

"Don't," Tim said quietly.

"Don't, what, Tim?"

"Don't tell him…"

There was a shuffle behind them.

"I won't need to," Bruce shook his head.

Tim whipped around and he was stunned that he hadn't noticed Dick was there. He was terrified that Dick had heard.

Dick look bewildered. Bruce let his head hang with exhaustion. The business of children was more trouble than it was worth. He briefly wondered whether he should leave the two of them alone, or stay to referee.

Dick lunged at Tim, but just to grab his shirt and haul him up. "Tim," he said, begging it not to be true.

"Dick, please," Tim cried, "Don't, you don't understand I—"

Dick didn't want to listen and he tossed his brother--lover--backwards so that he hit Bruce. Then left the study, they heard his footsteps on the stairs.

"It was unwise of you to get into this with him. When you knew you'd have to leave," Bruce murmured, helping Tim to right himself, before drawing away. He needed to make sure Dick was okay too. "You should have known that getting close to him would make it harder. You can't have real relationships like that, and just expect it to be easy to give up. Going half way doesn't cut it." Bruce wasn't exactly a relationships guru, but he thought he recalled Rachel lecturing him on something to this effect. "Which, by the way," he added, pausing in the doorway, "now would be a bad time to tell him you're not staying." Then, he hastened his pace to go find Dick.

He found Dick upstairs in the bedroom the boys had been sharing. Bruce winced because he should have figured it out faster. Really, he should have, but he hadn't wanted to. When he knocked on the door he didn't receive a response. Bruce tried the knob, and the wooden panel swung open easily for him.

"You okay?" he inquired quietly.

Dick looked up at him, the epitome of sullen. "That's kind of a stupid question coming from you."

"Yeah." Bruce agreed, entering the room. He shut the door with his foot, and went to sit next to Dick, on the bed. "Guess it is. Following that line of logic, asking if you want to talk about it would be equally stupid."

"Yeah," Dick answered. "But if you really need to know how I feel, I'll try to summarize. Hurt."

"That's usually how it goes," Bruce agreed. He ran his fingers through his hair. This was awkward. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry you had to hear that. I wasn't expecting you to show up right then."

"You didn't do anything," Dick muttered. "Matter of fact, neither did Tim."

"I've been there. But, I was directing those feelings at myself. Which I'm not suggesting you do, mind, I'm just saying. Sometimes, no matter how much you want to help someone you care about, you can't." He was a hypocrite. He'd just been yelling at Tim over this exact thing.

Dick remained quiet but the stony look on his face belied his pain. He'd known too. He had shied away from the fact that Tim had tried to get it out of him and he'd dismissed it. The anger was so much easier than the guilt.

Bruce knew those feelings too. How easy it was to smother your grief with rage. He didn't say anything for the time being. He put an inelegant arm around Dick's shoulder and gave him a brief squeeze before letting go.

That did something, Bruce wasn't sure what, but the mood in the room eased just a little. He vaguely considered saying something and ending it with 'son', but instead decided to just give Dick a little bit of peace.

x x x x x

The next morning was hell. Bruce had no idea where Tim had been all night, but he came in the front door at breakfast. Dick wasn't at the table, but Tim firmly acted as if he didn't care. He ate, and then went to school. Meanwhile Alfred gave Bruce a concerned look.

Dick shuffled down the stairs approximately ten minutes later, ready to train himself into exhaustion with Bruce. He was focused, determined, and just a little bit reckless, but Bruce didn't actually have a legitimate reason to tell him to stop. It wasn't his place anyway. He had offered what he could, but, in the end, the kids had to work it out.

Not that they seemed liable to do so any time soon. With the huge Manor as their battlefield, Dick could dance around Tim until Kingdom Come. He even had an excuse when Batman and Robin went out on their patrols…

Dick caught a grazing shot to the arm, but kept fighting, bashing a crooks head before realizing what he was doing. He looked at Bruce and said he had to cool his heels. Call if he needed help.

Bruce thought that was a fabulous idea and nodded, then continued on his beat. He didn't expect to come home at 2 in the morning and find Tim sitting in the hallway outside of Dick's room with a leather-bound book lying in his lap.

"Dick, please,"

Bruce didn't hear Dick's reply, only Tim's answers.

"I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't decide. There's that-that fucking butterfly effect to take into account." Tim stuttering: a sign of the apocalypse. "What if I'd saved your parents and then you'd all been shot later? What if Zucco wasn't going to kill your parents in this universe?"

There was the sound of Dick saying something muffled and loud from the other side of the door.

"You're right," Tim sighed. "I've been…avoiding things. But…I…I didn't lie Dick. My parents are dead. You and Bruce are the only family I have. I'm in love with you. That nine-year-old boy you hugged at Haly's that day? That's me, and I'm in my room thinking you're the most amazing person in the world. Right now. I wanted…you. I wanted a chance and I got it and I could have saved you're parents. You're right.

"I've fucked this time line up enough…I'm sorry…and…I have to leave now,"

He started to read from the book and Bruce felt his heart clench. He hurried up the stairs and Dick flung open the door. They converged together at that point in the hallway and a dark shape materialized.

"Timothy, what took you so long?" Raven asked breathlessly.

"I didn't know what to do," Tim confessed pitifully. Raven surveyed the scene around her taking stock of the shocked look on Dick's face and the stony mask that Bruce had pulled up to hide his own surprise.

"Richard," she greeted pleasantly enough. "Batman, if you'll excuse us, he has been gone too long already."

"No!" Dick choked, and grabbed Tim. He held him tightly to his chest but Bruce nodded.

Raven took that as her cue. She touched Tim's shoulder. The boy tried to draw backward against Dick but it was too late.

The next time he blinked he was in Titans Tower. Kon tackled him to the ground and it hurt. Tim wept bitterly on the inside.

* * *

_Every man is guilty of all the good he didn't do._ - Voltaire 

End


End file.
